


Santa Baby, My Sugarplum Daddy

by AGlassRoseNeverFades



Category: Hannibal (TV), Hannibal Lecter Series - All Media Types
Genre: Also Featuring Some Truly Hideous Christmas Sweaters, And Pagan Yule Magic Coming in Real Handy for B&Es and Stalking and Other Jolly Old Things, And the award for most gag-worthy title of the year goes to..., Christmas, Hannibal Gets Will Christmas Carol Themed Presents, Hannibal Lecter is Immortal, Hannibal Lecter is Santa Claus, Hannibal Lecter is the Chesapeake Ripper, He Just Wants to be Will's Piper Piping, He May Also Be On the Verge of Discovering a Daddy Kink Along the Way Too, M/M, More Like Romantic Slay Ride Amirite, Now Featuring Smut As Well haha whoops, Romantic Sleigh Ride, Sassy Will Graham, Somebody's Gonna Get Turned Into a Spoiled Brat Before He Knows It, Somnophilia, Sugar Daddy, Will Finds Out, Will's Bear!Hannibal Fetish Has Now Reached Peak Horny Levels, Yule, and lots of spiked eggnog, if you know what i mean
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-28
Updated: 2021-02-21
Packaged: 2021-03-11 04:08:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,076
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28389063
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AGlassRoseNeverFades/pseuds/AGlassRoseNeverFades
Summary: As the two of them draw steadily closer and their relationship deepens, it dawns on Will with mounting horror and dread that Hannibal Lecter has a secret--an alter ego of rapacious hunger who steals into strangers' homes in the dead of night and leaves extraordinary artistic displays everywhere he goes in his wake, a haunting figure larger than life whose reputation looms and won't leave Will alone wherever he goes.Can Will ever forgive him when he finds out, or will this terrible truth shatter their peace?
Relationships: Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Comments: 38
Kudos: 98





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Since I skipped doing anything remotely taxing over the holidays including the weekend following, here's my Christmas fic a few days late, now yet another chaptered monstrosity instead of the one-shot it was supposed to be because I'm impatient to share what I have written so far before December is over. With luck, maybe I'll get the next part out later this week! 🤞

It starts with him finding out that Dr. Lecter participates in No-Shave November. Will donates to relevant charities but doesn’t grow out his own facial hair any thicker than normal, had always found that aspect pointless and gimmicky and a pain to groom back into normalcy later without shaving the whole damn thing off and starting over. Dr. Lecter apparently has no such reservations, as he learned when he walked into his psychiatrist’s office earlier that evening and blinked at the already startlingly noticeable, well-groomed scruff softening the man’s normally sharp, pronounced cheekbones and angular face.

No, scratch that, it _really_ starts later that night with a dream—Will’s sure at the time that it’s a dream, or perhaps a hallucination—of the man and his thick, silver-streaked stubble that Will had found surprisingly hard to look away from during their last session, laying a hand on his sweating, feverish forehead and murmuring in a low rumbling voice that somehow seems to pleasantly boom all around him, _“Because you’ve been such a good boy for me this year.”_

Will wakes up alone in his bed feeling shockingly cool, refreshed, and clear-headed in a way he had forgotten could be real in his new normal of constant overheated delirium and lost time. Christ, had he really been that sick for so long and not realized, attributing it all to the stress of consulting for Jack’s team?

Not that it necessarily means the hallucinations vanish along with his fever. But this time when he hears the strange scuffling in his newly repaired chimney as he gets up from bed, the dogs’ ears also perk up curiously, though none of them bark or get up with him, snuffling back to sleep in their own beds as they would upon recognizing what they heard was no more than the house settling or their human getting up for a midnight drink. He sees nothing this time either when he tries to peer up the flue with a flashlight and returns to bed after a quick gulp of water from the tap without needlessly hammering a hole in the bricks this time.

He wakes again in the morning, fever still broken and sheets pleasantly warm and dry. It’s a good day. He doesn’t have class on Fridays, something that used to mean he could sleep in and luxuriate in three-day weekends before he started working for Jack, but blessedly there haven’t been any recent murders to investigate of late either. Even though he finds himself out of bed not long after dawn, he gets to spend this morning playing energetically with the dogs outside for the first time in weeks if not months, then sits warmly bundled up and lazy while he sips coffee on the porch afterwards.

A week of no distressing hallucinations, no fever, no headaches, and no night sweats. He still dreams of the ravenstag and occasionally glimpses it while awake though the other visions have gone. Actually, he’s started to notice more than one appear at a time, all of them peering intelligently at him through the tree line of the woods outside his house.

*

The next time they meet, Dr. Lecter’s deep five o’clock shadow has progressed well into a fully grown beard. Will catches himself imagining what it would be like to stand cheek to cheek and scruff it with his own, now comparably pitiful one, and runs his hand over that part of his face to hide a burning red blush as he glances away. He blames his distraction for why he accepts when Lecter invites him not only to Thanksgiving but to a damn _ballet_ the week following, right on the first of December.

He comes home that same evening and notices the flag on his mailbox is up. He opens it to find a package from the man he just said goodbye to an hour ago. Odd when the mail usually gets delivered much earlier in the day and he could swear he checked it before he left. Inside is a box of homemade chocolates. He snaps a picture and texts the doctor, who is quick to respond. _‘Glad to see they arrived safely. I realize I could have given them to you earlier in person, but there’s nothing quite like finding a nice surprise at home waiting for you to open it, is there? ;)’_

Will stares at the message for a long time afterwards, hyperfixated on the little winky face tacked onto the end of it like he and his psychiatrist regularly have these sort of informal text chats. _Is Hannibal Lecter flirting with me?_ Will sends back a generic _‘thanks,’_ not sure how else to respond, and pops one of the chocolates into his mouth. Not just chocolate, it turns out, but dark chocolate cordial cherries which pair surprisingly well with a few fingers of Jim Beam. A third of the box is gone by the time he finishes his glass. Reluctantly, he washes the tumbler out and puts the rest of the cherries away where the dogs can’t get to them before going about his normal nightly routine and getting ready for bed, not willing to break his recent streak of good restful nights with a stomachache.

*

At Thanksgiving, everyone except for Will has a good chortle about Hannibal’s rugged “mountain man” appearance. Everyone being Jack, Bella, Alana, and a few of Hannibal’s fellow opera goers. “Happens every year around this time, but I still never quite get used to it,” one of them teases good-naturedly.

While for everyone else it’s a bit of an amusing novelty, for Will it’s slowly become an embarrassing borderline obsession. The man has _whiskers_ for god’s sake, and a luxuriant bushy beard that goes well past his chin at this point. Will has never been so simultaneously jealous and turned on in his life, and isn’t that another awkward surprise?

He also never would have thought the good doctor would be willing to make such simple fare as fried ham, mashed potatoes, buttered rolls, and roasted turkey had he not asked Will for advice on creating a menu of “traditional American favorites” for the holiday. Well, actually, he had asked about _Will_ _’s_ favorites specifically.

“I’m just saying, the man doesn’t watch out with spreads like this, he’s gonna be putting on more than just a few holiday pounds,” Jack chuckles under his breath as he grabs a second slice of pumpkin pie. “And I say that as a man who knows a thing or two about putting on the holiday pounds, don’t I, Bells?”

“Jack, stop,” his wife protests with a teasing roll of her eyes.

It’s true, Hannibal does look like he’s gained a little weight, filling out his usually loose-fitting suits a bit better than usual. If he’s noticed himself, he doesn’t appear to be self-conscious about it. Hell, he seems happier in general, laughing and smiling more in the last few weeks than Will thinks he has in the past many months that they’ve known each other. It’s something else for Will to feel both worryingly warmed and jealous about, clutching his fork a bit tighter in his hand when Hannibal chuckles genially at something Alana just said.

Hannibal catches his eye. “Ah, by the way, Will, I just remembered, your suit was delivered here by the tailor this morning if you’d like to take it home today.”

“Oh, uh, thanks.” Will takes an overlarge gulp of his wine to hide the sudden flush to his cheeks. He’s tried to forget that entire embarrassing exchange two weeks ago, when the doctor had delicately suggested he might want to consider a new one and convinced him to go to an appointment he had conveniently already arranged with his favorite tailor. At least the man hadn’t insisted on going with him, though Will had been confused and a little suspicious afterwards when the diminutive woman informed him everything else had already been taken of when he tried to pay and ask when he should drop by again to pick it up. “I appreciate that. A lot easier to deliver it here I guess instead of sending someone to make the drive all the way out to Wolf Trap.”

“Why the new suit, Will?” Alana asks him curiously. He doesn’t respond immediately, having just taken another bite of his own pecan pie.

“Will has graciously agreed to join me for a performance of Matthew Bourne’s rendition of _Swan Lake_ next week.” Several delicately raised brows go up at this pronouncement.

“I don’t see you as the ballet type, Will,” says Jack. Will shrugs and shovels more pie into his mouth. He doesn’t get why it’s so interesting to everyone all of a sudden.

“Why, how exciting! In all these years, I’m sure I’ve never seen you at any performance or gallery opening with a plus one, Hannibal,” says one of the opera friends, Komeda he thinks if he remembers her name correctly, while the other ones nod in sycophantic agreement.

Alana, confused, contemplative, and quiet now across from him, takes a sip of her own wine. All of them are looking at him now with far too much curiosity for his liking.

He convinces Hannibal to let him help with the cleanup after dessert and is the last one to leave that evening. “So, is it up to code, doctor?” he asks with a teasing smile as Hannibal passes him the garment bag at the door. “I assume you took a peek before everyone arrived.”

“Not at all,” Hannibal replies. “I trust Madama Bianchi’s tastes implicitly and am sure it will look wonderful on you, but I wouldn’t dare peek before you arrive in it at my door. I’ve told you already how I feel about surprises, Will,” he adds with a wink.

 _Nothing quite like finding a nice surprise at home waiting for you to open it,_ Will remembers word for word, having reread that perplexing text multiple times over the past weeks. He’s tried not to read into it too deeply, but his mouth runs dry at the reminder now.

“How much do I owe you for it by the way?” he asks, hoping to ground himself back in reality with the no doubt appalling number of zeroes attached to the price tag. It’s a good thing what he doesn’t put towards house payments, other bills, and vet visits goes mostly straight to his savings.

The diffident frown looks _wrong_ on his psychiatrist’s face with that beard. “Will, I would never expect you to pay for a suit I insisted on having made for an event I invited you to. It’s a gift, of course.”

 _“Hannibal,”_ he tries to protest, only to forget what he was going to say next as the sudden flood of warmth in the man’s eyes halts him. He’s never called him anything other than Dr. Lecter before, he realizes belatedly.

“Please, Will, I insist.” He’s so earnest and charming that Will can’t bring himself to say no after all, little knowing how those four small words would soon take over his life like a magic spell, or a fae deal he won’t be able to wriggle himself out of later.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How about [a link to a ridiculously overpriced coat](https://us.loropiana.com/en/p/man/coats-%26-trench/sweater-coat-FAF4118?colorCode=M006) for no reason whatsoever? _*whistles innocently*_ Anyways, happy New Year, y'all!

The way Hannibal can’t take his eyes off him throughout dinner on the night of the first makes Will’s stomach flip every time he returns the older man’s gaze and has him feeling all kinds of ways—namely that it would be nice if they could just skip the ballet altogether and stay right here in his house where it’s already cozy, warm, and…intimate. He doesn’t get his way in this, of course, but the large hand splayed over the small of his back as Hannibal guides him back to the front door once their meal is finished feels very much like a brand and a promise of things to come later, a comforting reassurance that he hasn’t misread the doctor’s intentions as to where this date is leading after the performance ends.

He still has that glorious beard and, as Will has noticed every time he sees him now with only moderately tamer delight, appears to use far less product in his hair than normal since he started growing it out, possibly realizing how ridiculous he would look with it all neatly slicked back when his facial hair is allowed to fill out to fabulously wild proportions. It’s grown out a little as well, though not at the same rapid rate as his beard, and now curls up just a little past his ears and sweeps over his brow in a charming disarray of bangs that Will constantly has to stop himself from brushing to one side just to feel how soft it is.

Even more charming, Hannibal fills out his suits now such that he has an adorably noticeable paunch around his middle Will wants to squeeze and lay his head on like a pillow someday soon. _Jesus,_ he’s always known Hannibal was attractive, fit and sleek throughout autumn and presumably most of the year as well, but seeing him like _this_ in winter, so comfortable and more relaxed about his usual diet and regimen, is when Will started to recognize the man’s sex appeal with more than a vague passing interest. He’s downright horny all the time now, and almost ashamed of himself for how much tastier his thoughts have been of late.

Hannibal stops him with a hand on his elbow as Will reaches for his thick workman’s jacket. “A moment, please, Will. I have something for you before we go.” The man disappears into his study before Will can protest yet another gift so soon after the first one. He suspects he knows what kind of gift it is too considering the timing of this, so maybe he shouldn’t try to turn it down. He knows the jacket he showed up here in clashes horribly with the sleek dark navy suit Hannibal bought for him and is likely an embarrassment to be seen in at a function like this, but it was the warmest one he owned to protect himself against the December chill.

When Hannibal returns, it is with a garment box just as Will had guessed, adorned in cute red and green plaid wrapping paper that Will nearly rolls his eyes at, smiling in spite of himself. “Early Christmas present?” he asks.

“The first of many,” Hannibal tells him with a mischievous twinkle in his eye.

“What do we call this then?” Will questions next, sweeping a hand casually from his neck to his knees partly just to enjoy the glide of the older man’s eyes roving over his body yet again.

“A present to me.” Will flushes, not entirely sure it’s the suit he’s referring to now.

He tears the paper away from the box with lightly shaking hands now, inhaling a sharp breath through his nose when he pulls out a beautiful, long, grey cashmere coat lined inside with soft black fur.

“Sable,” Hannibal tells him as Will strokes the inner lining, the twinkle back in his eye like there’s a private joke here he isn’t privy to just yet.

“Cruel,” Will murmurs without any indication he intends on handing it back.

“Vintage,” the other man counters without denying the accusation, gently taking it from Will’s hands. “Allow me,” he says, and Will knows he should find it embarrassing how easily he turns his back to Hannibal and stands pliable and loose to let him slide it on over Will’s shoulders for him one arm at a time, but he can’t bring himself to care with the man’s hands on him again.

Hannibal takes a step forward and smoothly slots himself even closer, chest to Will’s back without an inch of space in between, and hooks his chin over Will’s shoulder to peer down as he buttons the coat up for him. A soft moan escapes the younger man’s lips, eyes fluttering closed at the press of Hannibal’s warm wiry beard against his jawline. The sound elicits another liberty taken, whiskered lips trailing delicately over the same spot on Will’s jaw. Will’s arm whips up to tangle his fingers tightly in the man’s hair, holding him in place as he turns his head enough to meet Hannibal’s mouth hungrily with his own, groaning at the hot perfect slide of their tongues together and the possessive grip of those powerful arms around his waist. He presses his hips back to feel the man’s thickening length against his ass, smiling viciously into the kiss when Hannibal’s breath stutters.

With enviable steel resolve, Hannibal pulls away from the embrace. “You naughty, irresistible thing,” his voice rumbles, accent thickened, sending a shiver down Will’s spine as he turns to face him again. “I had intended to wait until after we returned from the ballet to kiss you.”

“Shouldn’t have teased me like that then.” He can’t get rid of the silly validated grin on his face, irrevocable proof of the older man’s desire for him finally confirmed in a way Will can’t possibly second guess now.

They both have to take a moment to catch their breaths and calm down, adjusting hair and clothing to make themselves presentable enough to step outside where the cold thankfully helps temper the burning thrum beneath Will’s skin for now. Hannibal opens the passenger door of his Bentley for Will like a perfect gentleman, little more than a heated glance as their eyes meet to indicate any of what just happened inside.

Will watches the city lights go by with an elbow propped on the door and his hand covering the continually giddy expression on his face that won’t go away and makes his cheeks ache.

*

If Hannibal’s hands, his eyes, and that devastating kiss hadn’t been enough to clue him in earlier, the ballet itself certainly would have done the trick. He’s heard of Swan Lake before but never expected to see it like this, with an all-male cast of dancers and a searing erotic charge between the prince and the lead swan from start to finish. By the time the swan sweeps the prince up into his arms and off the stage and the entire audience stands to clap, Will is biting down on his lip to hold back the smirk he wants to shoot at the man to his left. It’s obvious now that Hannibal planned every detail of this evening in such a way that Will couldn’t possibly misconstrue it as _anything_ but a date.

He’s spared having to socialize with anyone else when Hannibal glimpses the snow starting to fall through the lobby windows and decides they should hurry back to his house. At least, that’s the completely reasonable sounding explanation he gives.

Once they’re back in Hannibal’s study, the man pouring each of them a few fingers of brandy, some coy impulse in Will’s brain makes him decide he wants to be _convinced_ into what comes next, so he says, “I really shouldn’t stay for long if I want to beat this storm home.”

“It’s quite cold outside, I’m afraid. You’d surely freeze out there,” Hannibal informs him with an answering smirk. Will snorts as Hannibal hands him his drink, catching the reference immediately with a roll of his eyes.

“I usually hate that song, just so you know.”

“Usually?” Hannibal asks as they stand beside one another at the window to watch the snowfall pick up, sipping from their respective tumblers at the same time. Will hums appreciatively as the first sip warms him up even more than the merry blaze already roaring in the fireplace.

“I’m usually not a big fan of brandy either,” he continues to tease.

“Are you about to ask, ‘Say, what’s in this drink?’ next, Will?” The younger man snickers and shakes his head.

Once they finish their drinks, Hannibal sets both tumblers aside, then stands close and settles both hands at Will’s hips with slow deliberate intent. Will places his own hands on Hannibal’s chest with the same deliberation, not to push him away but simply to feel how solid and warm he is.

Their kiss this time is languid, exploratory, sensual. There’s no need to pull back this time, instead the eroticism between them is allowed to steadily build, and with surprising fluidity shoes are slipped off and kicked aside, ties undone, and dinner jackets draped over the back of the couch with little regard for future wrinkles later.

His own fingers start to lose dexterity as his brain fogs and he fumbles to unbutton the other man’s shirt, but Hannibal has no such trouble, damn him, undoing Will’s shirt easily and pulling it down just enough to gently constrain his arms at his sides. Will moans around a bitten lip as fingers skate over his bared torso and crooked teeth nibble around his collarbone.

“Don’t think I missed that new rug laid out in front of the fire, doc,” he laughs breathlessly. A goddamn _bearskin,_ seriously. “Always knew you were a cheesy romantic.”

He yelps when Hannibal smacks him sharply on the ass for his sass, yanking his shirt off the rest of the way before unceremoniously lifting him into a fireman carry over one shoulder. “Geez, it’s _a few feet away,_ Hannibal. I can walk there just fine,” he pretends to put up a fuss as the man carries him across the room and lays him out over the decadent fur.

“I think this smart mouth of yours needs something to do before it gets you into trouble, Will,” Hannibal says as he looms over him and presses a thumb almost painfully into the plush middle of Will’s kiss-swollen bottom lip. Will nods agreeably, only able to suck in the man’s thumb for a moment before it’s removed with a lewd pop so they can quickly finish getting undressed.

“Good boy,” Hannibal says, shocking a high-pitched keen from Will’s throat. He can’t seem to stop the needy little noises from coming now as he’s touched, humming with deep appreciation as they’re both finally nude and his best fantasies of what Hannibal looks like beneath all those layers prove true, from his thick uncut cock to his beautiful rounded belly to his magnificent pelt of silver and blond hair spanning across his chest and stomach.

“Not that I don’t appreciate the effort,” Will says between kisses, eyes rolling back at the wet glide of their dicks smeared in pre-cum. “But you had to know _this_ was the only bearskin I needed,” he jokes, pulling tighter on the wiry chest hair grasped between his fingers.

“I’m not distracting you enough. You are still talking too much,” Hannibal growls. Will grins into the next kiss before Hannibal abruptly sits up and turns, lying back beside him and swirling his tongue around the head of Will’s dick before he can think of any more sassy one-liners. Will cries out and frantically digs fingers into Hannibal’s hips, ready to give as good as he gets by dragging the man closer and wrapping his lips around the dripping cock twitching eagerly to be inside his mouth.

He moans and takes in as much as he can without choking, thrusting shakily into the equally enthusiastic mouth below as Hannibal sucks and slurps greedily around him. That beard pressed into his groin and the warm, furry belly rubbing against his nipples feel so fucking amazing too. Will whines around his own mouthful of cock and bobs his head faster. The languor from earlier has evaporated entirely as the two men loudly and sloppily swallow each other’s dicks down, desperate to make the other one come first.

In the end it’s hard to tell which one of them wins the race. All he knows is the ache in his jaw and the warm flood of semen suddenly pouring deliciously over his tongue as his balls tighten and his own release is dragged out of him almost painfully down Hannibal’s throat. Hannibal’s softening cock still rests halfway inside his mouth, heavy against his tongue, when he swallows and pulls back just enough to gasp for air. His thighs twitch as the other man licks him clean and he closes his lips to suckle at the head some more in retaliation for the prolonged savoring of his own oversensitive shaft.

Exhausted and halfway to passing out right there on the rug, it really doesn’t take much persuasion at all for Hannibal to convince him to bundle up with him under a pile of blankets afterwards in his bedroom upstairs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have not seen the [gay version of Swan Lake](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=stn715nrpRw) myself yet, but rest assured it's definitely on my Watch Later list.
> 
> Dean Martin sings the [only decent version](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3qFK5YFvTYE) of Baby, It's Cold Outside and I will not be taking any criticism on this ~~opinion~~ fact, thank you.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Head empty, no thoughts, just a quick and dirty little PWP morning after.
> 
> TW: somnophilia that was not previously negotiated beforehand, but both parties are quickly and enthusiastically consenting. 👀

If last night was amazing, waking up to wet heat and suction and realizing Hannibal already has his mouth on him again makes this the most incredible morning he’s ever had in someone else’s bed, or his own for that matter. His mouth falls open in a throaty gasp as he arches up into the man’s throat. He blinks dazedly, reaching up to wipe the last vestiges of sleep from his eyes, then props himself up on his elbows to gaze down, moaning incredulously as he realizes not all of the sloppy wet noises and satisfied groaning below him are because of the dick Hannibal happily sucks down again like it belongs there. With dexterity enviable for the man’s age, Hannibal also has one arm reached around his back, lubed up fingers squelching obscenely up his own ass.

Fingers and mouth both retreat with an equally lewd pop as Hannibal sits up and raggedly sucks in a few deep breaths. “Forgive me, Will, your morning erection was simply far too tempting to ignore.” Will swears incoherently, still needing a moment to wake up enough to properly find his words.

“I won’t forgive you if you don’t start up again soon,” he finally manages, voice still rough and too quiet. Hannibal’s eyes spark wickedly as he shifts forward to straddle Will, teasing soft groans out of them both with the wet drag of Will’s dick between his cheeks.

“There are condoms in the drawer beside you.” Will looks, sees the jar of lubricant Hannibal used to slick himself up out on the nightstand, presumably from the same closed drawer said condoms are stowed away in.

“You don’t want to use them, do you?” he says, phrased like a question but delivered as a flat statement. He already knows the answer.

“It is entirely your decision, but personally I would rather feel you inside me bare.” Will moans a little again through closed lips, darting his tongue out quickly to wet them, and nods. He lays back, running his hands over the other man’s hairy thighs, mouth falling open again as Hannibal shifts to spear himself onto Will’s cock without further preamble.

“God, you’re impatient,” Will pants as Hannibal rides him greedily, not really complaining.

“On the contrary, I can be very patient when I have to be.” He grinds down so they both gasp, keeping Will mostly inside as he moves now at a slower pace. “I simply choose not to wait when what I want is so tantalizingly within reach.”

Will pushes himself up into sitting position, grinning as Hannibal’s eyes slip closed involuntarily for a moment at the deeper angle, and grabs onto those wonderful love handles bulging a little from Hannibal’s sides. The man’s heavier weight is starting to crush Will’s thighs a bit. He hopes they bruise from the force of the man bouncing on his dick.

He loves kissing Hannibal like this, the way the beard almost makes him feel like he’s going to suffocate in it. He bites down on the man’s lower lip, then whispers against his panting open mouth, “Next time, you will _wake me up_ before you start fingering yourself, got it?”

“So that you can watch, or so you can finger me yourself?”

_“Yes.”_ Will kisses him again, leaning forward. Hannibal takes the hint to fall backwards, putting his legs around Will’s waist to keep him inside. He nearly slips out anyway as they fall together and giggles as he flops and bounces on Hannibal’s belly, just the tip of his penis still in. Hannibal smiles up at him and clenches around it and Will, gasping, sinks further back in. _“Hahhh,_ _Hannnnibal_ _…”_ He starts thrusting eagerly into the man’s welcoming body.

“You’re beautiful like this, Will,” pants the gorgeous man beneath him. “Taking what you want, joyful and triumphant in your desires.”

“God, do you _ever_ shut up?” Easier to grin and snark than to take a comment like that at face value, pistoning his hips harder and faster to make Hannibal too incoherent in his own pleasure to keep talking, because dammit he does _not_ need to start blushing now when he’s balls deep inside the man.

He wraps a hand around his lover’s leaking cock, tugging to the same rhythm as his thrusts as he speeds up. “Come on, baby. _Come for me._ Wanna see you drenched in it.”

_“Will.”_ Hannibal’s reverent gaze holds his own as he lets go, spurting cum that shoots warm and sticky over his torso. Will runs his fingers through it, fixated on smearing it in the man’s downy chest hair. His breath stutters and halts as he finishes inside his lover, eyes fluttering shut.

Hannibal pulls him down for a kiss, one hand cradling the side of his face while the other presses down on Will’s back to push them chest to chest, rubbing the mess on his own chest and stomach all over Will as well, clearly intentional about marking him this way and leaving his scent on Will’s skin. It’s filthy, possessive, and tender all at once, and Will hears himself whimper into the other man’s mouth.

They continue to languidly make out between heaving breaths as their heart rates slow almost to normal. Will’s cock softens and slips out as he tries to sit up, only to realize the tacky cum dried between them leaves them stuck together in a way that will be a bit annoying and painful to pull apart. He snorts. Then practically squeals as Hannibal effortlessly hefts him up in his arms as he gets out of bed, frantically wrapping arms and legs around the larger man to keep himself aloft as Hannibal carries them into the ensuite bathroom.

“Show off,” he grumbles, loving the warm chuckle vibrating against his own chest and stomach as Hannibal starts up the shower and climbs in still carrying him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I swear there was going to be plot, but the horny bastards made me put it off til the next chapter 😩

**Author's Note:**

> If you don't think I'm going to include a link to [Eartha Kitt's Santa Baby](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HTCFi4l3nkY) then you really don't know me that well.


End file.
